


The Lovers

by MothxWrites



Category: OC - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Diary/Journal, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Polyamory, Secret Relationship, Tags Are Hard, They actually love eachother, not straight - Freeform, polyamorous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:42:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28928244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothxWrites/pseuds/MothxWrites
Summary: How can two strange men appear to an equally strange person living on a secluded island, mostly void of all social interaction, and by god somehow fall in love? who knows! not even me! Some of the chapters are letters.
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character/Original Character
Kudos: 3





	1. Journal One

**Author's Note:**

> please know i have not written since i was thirteen and that was pure hetalia on god, im sorry if my format is bad, i dont even know how this site fully works im so sorry. also their journals are supposed to be all over the place, im so sorry for that

They grew up without music, they grew up without constant love, they grew up without touch, they grew into a weird being. This is a diary entry they write, they write to nobody. Nobody cared for their journals. Do you?

"Sometimes I'm confused. And when I get confused I write it down for later, I write it down to ask Mother and Father what it means, sometimes they are confused too by what I am confused about, well...That's confusing. I used to get confused as to why Mother and Father would come in the early morning and leave late at night, they never answered why, so I've always been confused. I get confused with the people that stay on the ship when they are here, why can't I talk to them? Why do they hold those things? Mother and Father say it's for me, it's for them, it's for protection, but there has never been a danger. But it got me thinking, was I the danger? I fucking hope not. Mother and Father say there are pirates and to hide if they are to arrive. But what would pirates want to do here? I’m all alone, okay, maybe that's the issue, but maybe I shouldn’t be alone in the first place.

The guards… They make me nervous, they dress nicely like how Mother and Father sometimes did. Sometimes they do leave the ship, but only if Mother and Father need help with the bags and boxes they bring for me. I once asked a guard for their name, but they only smiled down at me and said that they were very sorry. I was confused, but I didn’t ask. I wish I could just talk to other people, but my throat sometimes closes up just by the thought of it.

I get confused about my feelings, and sometimes weird things happen, I asked Mother and Father, and they told me that I would be alright. Every time I see them again, they give me things to take with water. It's been better, but I was confused as to why I took them. I’m not sick. They say I’m not sick, but taking these things makes me feel sick. They never tell me why I have to take it. I continue to take it because it makes them happy. I’m not happy.

I was confused when a strange man came home with Mother and Father, he was short like Father, but he did not look like either of them. They told me he was a doctor, apparently, I had seen him as a young baby, but I do not remember him. He was nice to me, I wish to meet him again. He gives me the weird things to eat, he calls them antipsychotics, so...What's the antipsychotic medication? My parents refused to let him tell me. But they make them go away. I probably won’t ever tell anyone again who they are. I forgot to take the medication once, never again will I forget to take it. 

I’ve turned 19, my parents visited early for this. I hate how they had to visit early for my birthday, but they always do this. They got me a new bed, hooray! Hooray! Woohoo! New bed. I got a new mirror... It scared me so badly. I saw myself, but it didn’t feel like myself. I felt alone and scared, I didn’t feel seen. But my parents didn’t do anything, they didn’t take away the mirror. So I smashed the mirror.  
They can’t blame me for smashing the mirror, I told them I didn’t trust it. I told them bad things would come if I kept this mirror intact. I didn't see myself, I saw a monster. The monster isn’t me, it's someone else. It's something else. Not even the medication can stop this. They will come out and murder me if I kept the mirror like that. I wouldn’t have been safe. I would have died. My parents don’t want me dead, right? So they can’t blame me. If they blame me, I’ll...I don’t know, I’m tired. I’m Done. Goodnight, world."


	2. Chapter One: Oasis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My first chapter that isn't a journal, how exciting!

The island is small, it's courteous, it's tidy, it's modern. There are small hills among the island, and on the biggest hill is a small house, built of bricks and hard concrete to be protected from the coastal weather, but it still looks rather rustic. Everything is exactly how it's supposed to be. There are gravel paths throughout the island, one leads to a large tree, another leads to a small picnic area, and so on. The teenager loves their home, they’ve known nothing more than that. But they aren’t allowed to go past a certain point of the island, it's gated off by thick concrete walls and wire, the teen can hear talking behind these walls, but typically they get scared off by loud alarms. It's paradise otherwise… Their black and spotted blond hair is shaved, it's slowly growing back. They are wearing a soft yellow, flowing dress that goes to their mid-thighs, knee-high white cotton socks, and black sandals. They start to walk down the pathway from the front door of their home, hopping along they look around, taking in deep breaths. There's no need for them to be quiet, they talk to themself. “I wonder. I wonder. What the fuck! Ow!” They stumble, rolling their ankle when they step in a small hole. “When did this become a thing..” They mumble, leaning down and rubbing their ankle before continuing to walk down the pathway again. They make their way to the picnic table, climbing the chair to sit down on the table. They glance around, a snake slithers by, unbothered by their presence. Birds sing in the trees, loud and surely making their own havoc, and ants are building their palace. 

A stray gunshot in the distance can be heard. 

Night soon comes, and the teen is still at the picnic table, thinking. ‘I want to not be alone.’ Their eyes gaze to the sky and the large, overbearing trees. “I want to be with the birds in the sky.” They giggle. “‘How poetic, love.’” Standing up, they start making their way back to their home, making sure to not step in the same hole that twisted their ankle. Upon opening the thick door, the smell of vanilla overwhelms them. Their candles are delicately burning, they smile and close the door. There is no lock. There's never been a need for a lock. “I'm home..” They sigh, their gaze going down to their slip-on sandals. The living room is small, it's cozy. It’s lonely, it’s shy. It’s a mess. There's a wooden couch with large grey cushions, there are large and heavy bookshelves all over. Some are filled with journals, others with scrapbooks and photo books, and the rest are what their parents bring for entertainment. They shuffle around the coffee table and through the doorway into the small kitchen, and after glancing around they sigh. “Still don’t have much food left, I shouldn’t have binged the other day..” They groan, then head back into the living room. They walk over to the calendar that's next to the door, staring at it. Today is the 11th, so tomorrow..is the 12th... And they’ll get here…” They trace the lines with their finger, then they point to the box circled, lettered with “VISIT”. “Ahh, the 19th..” They sigh, looking around, then out a broad window. Another gunshot could be heard, but it doesn’t bother them. “I hope they come earlier.” They mumble to themself, turning on their heels and slightly hopping into the kitchen, trying not to slip on pieces of paper on the floor. “Mother will not like the mess, oh well, she can clean.” A small giggle emits, and they head into their bedroom. Their bedroom is of light green walls, their bed is large and takes up a majority corner of the room, a desk and aquarium line two other walls, and in front of the bed fits a large dresser. “I don’t feel like writing today.” With a shrug, they jump onto their bed and tug down the curtains that lay on top of the canopy-like structure, they are hidden from the world. On Top of the roof of the bed are glowing fake stars, stars that they stare at when they are not inside. It's safe for them in here, they don’t feel as vulnerable to the thoughts of their mind, and a soft smile wishes on their face. Another gunshot, they pay no mind. It's a busy night, but it's just like the birds. They stay staring for a while, but eventually, their eyes close and they are asleep, at peace from their mind.

They are being chased, they are not safe, they are being pursued by the monsters in their head. “Come back!” One scream’s, they scream, their legs can not run fast enough. All of these years living on the island have come to an end, they are not safe from their thoughts, they are not safe from their dreams, they are not safe when awake. They bolt through the trees, jumping over large and overgrown roots, untouched by man. They are running to the walls, the large, concrete walls. The very walls their parents yell for them not to get too close to. They are still being chased, and they are screaming for help. Their voice is getting sore, they can’t hold this up for much longer. Four faces in heavy uniforms pop over and look beyond the wall, through the trees they spot the small one running, running from life and death, consciousness and slumbering, fear and bravery, monsters and reality. They start yelling, an alarm starts blaring, a large gate starts to roll open, the teen has never seen or heard this gate open before, it startles them into going slower, but they are catching up. “You have to be quicker than that.” A voice screams from behind them, they look back, tears in their eyes, and start to run faster, but they are weak, they are small, they are not a runner. They are close to the gate, there are figures standing there, they are wielding weapons in hand, ready to help or harm the child. Nearing not even thirty feet away, they have hope, we have hope, they have hope. Twenty-five feet, they believe their pursuitors have lost hope. Fifteen feet, the gates start making their way to close, they’ll make it regardless. Ten feet, they start slowing down to not trip and fall. Five feet, their dress is grabbed from behind, they lose footing, they fall, their face slamming into the dirt, claws dig into their back.

They scream, they start to cough, they are already crying, they are sitting up in the darkness of their canopy. They are not safe tonight. They get out of bed, rubbing their eyes, they pull the curtain along with the two feet before it slips off, they walk into the kitchen and past the doorway, beyond that two are sitting on the small couch. They think nothing of it, they walk over to the sink, grabbing a glass and slowly turning on the faucet, water pours in and they fill it halfway, and they turn the lever, the water stops falling and drips a few times. The small body sits down at the table, the cloth pulling when they sit. They look around, a mouse is on the ground, dead, and they grimace. With a glance into the living room, the two are now staring. “Look away, please.” They speak softly, their voice torn from screaming. The two look at each other, both figures quiet. One slowly stands and gets up, the second one follows in the bigger ones’ footsteps. The door opens, the figures leave the small house, the door closes. “How bizarre.” A blink, another figure, this one a lady, they grimace, she’s screaming. They look at their water and it's blue now, they drink it anyway. They finish sipping, they get up and leave the glass there, and head back to their bedroom. They sit at their desk, they write. Hours pass, they hear creaking, they hear screaming, they hear talking. Getting tired of the commotion, they get up and go to their bed, collapsing, their eyes close and they fall asleep, their world goes quiet for now.

They wake up at 10:24 am, just like clockwork. Their eyes open and they yawn, they get out of their bed after pushing the curtains away, they slowly stretch their legs and look around, their room is the same as always. They stand up slowly and walk over to their desk, grabbing their medication sorter, then walk into the kitchen. But as they walk through their door into the kitchen, they look into the living room, their front door is wide open. They stare at it for a few moments, they blink, it's still open, there's a gentle breeze into the house. They set down the pill cady on the table and walk into the living room, papers flew into the corner of the living room and under the couch, they walk to the door and look through, nothing out of the ordinary until they look at the ground and see two sets of deep footprints in the ground, in and out. They close the door and lock it, turning and walking into the kitchen yet again. They pour themselves a cup of water, then sit at the table, opening today's pill container and pouring it into their hand. They pour some water into their mouth, taking the biggest pill first and they take the pill. They continue this, the largest pills to the smallest, and once done, they close the pill container and stand up slowly. The voices are exhausting, they are exhausted, their dreams tear up their soul slowly, one by one. They glance into the living room once more to stare at the door, they ignore the strangeness. “It is not for today,” they take in a deep breath, “maybe tomorrow.” 

For today, the 12th, they spend the day painting a portrait of their mother and father, two very different beings. They paint how they see them, not using their reference picture their parents provide. After painting, they go to the fridge to get food, they are hungry. They check the fridge, their eyes widen, their apples are all gone and their meat is half gone. “Where…” They groan, rubbing their head angrily, twirling their fingers in their short hair before pinching down, tearing hair from their scalp. “Fuck!” They cry out, stomping their foot down hard on the dark wooden floors. They grab their last milk jug, throwing it down onto the ground, or at least that was their intention, it slams on their foot, they scream in pain, they fall down onto their rear end, reaching and grabbing their foot in agony. The jug didn’t even break, but it did harm their foot. They sit for a while, their foot is red and swollen, something feels out of place, but they stand up and walk regardless. Their parents will take care of it if it remains an issue. They head back into the living room and slip on their sandals. They yawn. “Maybe I’ll just go for a stroll…” they nod, knowing they need to face today. They open the door, the sunshine and gentle breeze gaze their face softly, they breathe it in and step out into the world again. As they walk down the soft hill and pathway, they look at the footsteps. “Did they come early and not wake me up..?” they mutter, looking around. As they make way to a turning point, they start walking on the trail to the picnic table, following in the footsteps. “Bit big to be Mother’s, but she wears fancy shoes all the time..” They giggle, shaking their head, their hand goes to their hair and they start twirling it again, occasionally pulling hair out. As they walk over, they look up and pause, their eyes widening at the sight of the two figures at the table, both asleep. They walk over, their mind not processing it. It is not Mother and Father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and if you can, please comment what you think!


End file.
